Then and Now
by corneroffandom
Summary: Ricardo may not remember, but Alberto definitely does.


Alberto Del Rio listens as his mother prattles on in her deeply accented voice, the Spanish flowing over him like water. Despite how soothing her voice is, what she is saying to him is troubling. Distasteful. "_Si,_" he says, unable to say anything else when she and his father both are looking at him in that manner. After he is excused to go back to his room, he marches through the ranch, mumbling under his breath. _Public school,_ he thinks with no lack of disdain. _Because that will change things._

Unwilling to overlook complaints made from the private school he'd currently been enrolled in, Alberto's parents had made the abrupt decision to take their son out of the private school that he had been so much trouble in and stick him in a public school, where there were many more students, already in their own little cliques and less likely willing to follow along with Alberto's _leader of the pack_ mentality, which almost always got him and everyone else involved in great amounts of mischief.

He barely says a word the whole weekend, staying to himself. His parents try talking to him, easing the blow this is obviously putting on him, but he still remains distant up until he is ordered to go wait for the bus at the end of the street. When he complains, his parents explain- again- that they do not want him mocked for being driven to school in one of their many fancy cars. No, he will arrive like his other classmates- bus or walk. He spends the trip in silence, ignoring the bus driver, the children around him, everything. When he gets off, it's to more silence. The school building itself is the first thing that truly gains his attention, the amount of students surrounding it overwhelming him in comparison to the private school he'd just left.

There is another school next door to it, not as large but still sizeable enough, and he stares at the smaller children slowly pouring inside. _Primaria,_ he thinks with a sneer before finally turning to enter his new school. He, freshly turned fifteen, had been very close to graduating _secundaria _and moving on to_ preparatoria_ but his schooling had taken a hit when he'd begun getting into trouble. Not only typical teenager type trouble either, but fist fights and vandalism that were steadily escalating. Things that made every grown up involved begin to take a second, harder look at him when the police had gotten involved. Until now, until this decision had been made.

He can tell every eye is on him, every whisper about what a trouble maker he had been, so bad that all the money in the world couldn't make the private school he had come from keep him. Used to hearing much worse things said about him, he doesn't react in the slightest, a bland look on his face. The most relief he gets from this repetitive nightmare spent surrounded by strangers comes at lunch, when they get an hour to eat and spend some time in the fresh air. Even that, however, isn't very calm, his own schoolmates' sounds echoing back twicefold from the _Primaria _students, whose breaks coincide with theirs perfectly.

Somehow, however, the _los ninos_ are more interesting than anything else around, Alberto content to lean against the side of the school with his eyes half-opened as he watches them play and yell and do things children of those ages do. With no one he knows here and unwilling to take the time to meet anyone else, knowing that soon his grades will be back to his parents' liking, he will be done with this school, he has nothing else to do between classes _but_ watch everything else around him. The children over there range from 6 to 11, anyone older aging out into the school he has been forced into, and he remembers how simple things were when he was that age. As it seems to be for _most _of the children over there. One of the notable exceptions, somehow, always manages to catch his eye, distract him from his own annoyed thoughts towards his situation.

A small, timid looking thing, with dark hair and brown eyes, always trying to get by without garnering notice and almost always failing, the older students content and sometimes downright happy to knock him over, elbow him in the sides, ignore as his things go this way and that across the school grounds, making him late to class when he scrambles to collect them. Alberto's discomfort with the attacks against this child grows in time with the amount of physicality shown against him, until, as always, one day a group of the children are playing in the yard while he eats his lunch, watching them. There's something in the air, a kind of tension that proves if something _can_ go wrong, it definitely will today.

One child falls down; that's the innocuous start. As the teacher moves to check on him, the little boy Alberto had noticed in the past is trying to walk across the soft sand around the swings with a bucket, his balance unfortunately failing him half way across. As he throws his arms out to catch himself, the bucket goes flying... just to land at one of the older students' feet, sand coating his shoes and pants legs. Everyone freezes, aware that this is the chief mischief maker in the whole class, with no qualms against brutalizing the younger students. The small boy whimpers, taking a couple hurried steps back just to trip on an untied shoelace and hit the ground hard. He tries to push himself up on his elbows as the bully advances on him, slowly kicking the bucket out of his way. Though it started out an amusing situation to view from a fair distance away, Alberto loses his smile, his eyes narrowing as things quickly escalate.

The much larger boy grabs the fallen child by the collar, dragging him unceremoniously to his feet, spitting out angry words at him that Alberto can't hear from this distance. Everyone around freezes, the teacher's back turned as she's still busy with the crying child across the yard. Despite his begging, there is nothing to be done for it as he's slapped hard, once, twice- The larger boy has dropped him onto the ground and is beginning to stomp him when a hand larger than his own grabs him by the arm, holding him in place. "Hey!" he snaps, turning to find himself face to face with the much taller, much more menacing Alberto Del Rio. His bravado quickly slips as he loses interest in his target, frowning up at Alberto. "Que quieres?!"

Alberto doesn't even answer or pay much attention to the boy, roughly pushing him aside. "Andar," he snaps, kneeling down on the ground and resting one hand on the other boy's shoulder once he sees that the bully is gone, had run off who-knows-where while he'd been distracted by Ricardo. "Hablas ingles?"

The little boy scrubs at his face anxiously with one hand, watching Alberto with a wary expression. "A-Alguno," he finally says, shaking his head immediately afterwards. "So-some, si."

"Can you stand?" There are already bruises forming along the boy's cheek and jaw and Del Rio reconsiders letting the older child get away so easily, tempted to go chase him down. The small fingers suddenly resting atop his stops these thoughts, his dark eyes peering back down at the boy.

"I thin- think," he mumbles. Alberto nods, standing back up before holding a hand out to him. He whimpers slightly, holding his one wrist to his midsection, as he regains his equilibrium, wiping at his face with his other hand while Del Rio holds him by the shoulder, frowning pensively at him. "Gracias." He looks up sheepishly, visibly uncertain why someone Alberto's age would be helping him.

"You're welcome," the teenager says. "Come, we should tell the teacher what happened." He tries to guide him towards the woman who is just finishing comforting the one boy who had fallen that had inadvertantly started all of this, but the younger boy digs his feet in.

"No," he whimpers, accidentally grazing his cheek with his fingers while trying to wipe away a few betraying tears that had leaked out of his red-rimmed eyes. "Por favor, I can't..."

"Why not?" Alberto demands, growing even more angry at the pain visible on his face just from that small touch. "You want him to get away with this?"

"N-no," he gasps out, trying to get away from Alberto's tight grip now, which only makes the older boy hold on tighter. "Not- not a tattletale. It only makes it worse."

Alberto's anger fades as they stare at each other, the young boy's gaze so desperate, so pained, that Alberto can't imagine anyone wanting to harm him. "Fine," he says finally. "How about this..." As he talks, the bruised child calms down, his breathing growing less frenzied. Encouraged by this, Del Rio continues on with his plan while the boy is enraptured with him, nodding slowly before he's even finished laying it all out.

"Si," he says softly, lips tugging up into a small smile.

"Good!" Alberto holds his hand out, carefully shaking the hand that gingerly meets him halfway. "One last thing," he says somberly, still marveling at just how small the six year old's hand is in comparison to his own.

"Que?"

Alberto's soft smile quells the uncertainty that still shows in the boy's face, his eyes twinkling as he begins to walk, pulling him up alongside him. "If I'm to help you, I believe I need to at least know your name."

"Oh, it- it is Ricardo," he says quietly, pressing his fingertips together in a nervous habit that would follow him long into his adulthood.

"Ricardo," Alberto muses, content with how the name rolls off of his tongue. "It suits you." He smiles slightly, deciding to follow the child's lead and not to overwhelm the child with his full name. "I am Alberto."

"Alberto," Ricardo murmurs, his fingers still steepled together. It's only when Alberto reaches over and rests his hand atop Ricardo's that the young child actually looks up, their eyes locking once more.

"You can call me Al if you wish," he says. "There is no need for formalities here." As much as he appreciates the prestige and the respect his family's name and money brings him, there is something about Ricardo that makes him want things to be different. "So, shall we try after today's classes?"

"Si."

He isn't all that pleased that his parents' plans are working, but, determined to not get separated from his friends and everything he knows any longer, Alberto has begun slowly getting back on track with his studies and there is no doubt he will soon move past the _secundaria _teaching that he is currently locked into, moving onto _preparatoria _as planned before this had all begun. Which means two things: He will be back amongst students he had grown up with in private schooling, and he will also be unable to keep watch on Ricardo from his school yard any longer. So whatever they plan will have to be executed and finished quickly, to give him time to make sure that the other children are paying attention.

After school, the children line up to either be picked up by parents or transported by bus back to their homes. As a reward for his grades strengthening and his being on his best behavior for the past month, Alberto's parents have begun to send their personal driver for him once more but that day he meets the car at the street and orders Luis in brisk Spanish to wait for him, that he had some business to attend to. Knowing better than to second guess the boy, he patiently turns the car off to wait, only half watching as the teenager wanders back towards the school and continues on to the building where the _Primaria_ grades are taught.

Ricardo is standing awkwardly in line, trying to keep his bruised face down. The nurse had looked at him earlier, tsk'd while cleaning and wrapping his wounds, including carefully bracing his one wrist, and then let him go with a softly spoken warning to be careful. He never can be sure if they're aware of the bullying here or if they even care, there being too many children for a small, understaffed school like this, but he hopes someday it's caught and put a stop to. His thoughts are derailed when a large arm wraps around his shoulders, someone pulling him towards them. He freezes in fear, expecting to be punched or worse, before the soft words being spoken to him register.

"Relax, amigo. It is just me." Alberto smiles as Ricardo looks up at him, still bruised and fearful but appearing a little more at ease than he had earlier. "No more bullying?"

"No-not yet," he whispers, looking around uncertainly.

"Good," Alberto murmurs, noticing Ricardo's wrist. "What happened there...?"

Ricardo swallows, his eyes following the older boy's to his carefully braced hand. "The school nurse thinks sprained," he says quietly. "Perhaps from being kicked."

Alberto's grip on him tightens. "What did you tell her?"

He looks sheepish and almost near tears again. "That I fell."

Del Rio frowns, unhappy at this. "You should tell the truth. What if he comes after you again?"

Ricardo shakes his head, looking up at him. It's obvious that he trusts Alberto more than he does any of the teachers at this school, the older boy unsure how to feel about this. "The plan...?" he asks slowly.

Pressing a hand to his own forehead, the teenager sighs. _What did I get myself into?_ "Si, now." He squeezes Ricardo's shoulder and looks around at the various children of differing ages surrounding them. Urging the younger boy along, he follows him to the busses and examines the group of kids. Unsurprisingly, the bully who had gone after him earlier is nearby, suddenly looking uncomfortable when he realizes that Alberto is looking right at him. His hold on Ricardo tightens before he smirks at the children around them, turning his gaze down to Ricardo. "So the rest of the day has gone alright? No more trouble?"

"Si," he says quickly, glancing from Alberto to the children surrounding them. "No more trouble."

"Perfecto," he responds, clapping his hands together in an exaggerated show of happiness. "Just remember I'm in the building right next door if you ever need me." His dark eyes scope out the group around them, taking in who looks uncomfortable and who barely responds to this conversation. He's not entirely sure what the children will think of this, but as long as they bully Ricardo less, it's fine with him. Intimidation is a fun little thing, it can either work just the way it's supposed to or it can make things even worse.

Before he turns to leave, Ricardo climbing safely onto the bus, he notes wary gazes aimed his way, the children whispering and looking into the bus. As according to plan, they all seem aware of his stature, his reputation proceeding him even here as the rich troublemaker who had gotten himself kicked out of private school to languish next door as punishment. He smirks at them all before continuing on his way, stuffing his hands in his pockets. _Hopefully they will begin to leave him alone now._

Time passes and he only gets to see Ricardo a time or two more during the rest of his stay in the public schooling, but it appears that the subtle warning from the older boy has worked. The few times he sees the children outside, Ricardo is left to play in peace and even seems to gain a few friends as days go by. Alberto is about to finish his time in secundaria, move on to the _preparatoria _building when he goes to talk to the boy again. The difference between the bullied, bruised child he had first met weeks earlier to the more lighthearted, playful boy before him now pleases him.

"Hola," Ricardo greets him, eyes gleaming in the bright sun overhead.

Alberto sits down next to him on the bench that's outside of the school, grin sharp as he looks him over. "You are looking well."

"Si," he says, flushing slightly. "Thanks to you. Much of the bullying has stopped." He smiles, pressing his fingers together. "I owe it all to you."

"I was glad to help," he says honestly. "It is good to see you doing better. But I am here to let you know... I am about to leave the _secundaria_ school." He looks thoughtfully over at the building and shrugs, the future now looking bittersweet. Even though he doesn't really care for the school, it had had its plusses. "I have finally raised my grades and proved myself to my parents. I will be enrolled in a _preparatoria_ school a ways from here."

"I see," the younger boy says quietly, his lips turning down into a slight pout. It's obvious he's struggling with something until finally he mumbles, "What will I do if they begin again? I don't..."

"No worries, mi amigo," he waves it off like it's nothing but a pesky fly. "I will be available to you whenever you need me." He holds out a folded scrap of paper, smirking as Ricardo slowly takes it from him. "This is my home address. If I'm not there, tell the staff who you are and they will know what to do."

He stares from the paper to Alberto in awe, slowly nodding. "Si," he whispers. "I- I... thank you. I will."

Alberto's hand smoothly rests in Ricardo's hair, ruffling it. "Everything will work out, you'll see."

Still amazed that the much older boy cares enough to open his home to him should he need it, Ricardo murmurs his agreement, peering up at him with wide eyes.

"Bueno," he says with a large smile.

Summer goes by quickly, Alberto feels as though he merely blinks once and it's suddenly time to go to the _preparatoria _school for the first time. He's not sure what to expect, after being away from his friends for so long, but he hides his anxiety well behind confident words and fancy clothes. As the driver pulls up in front of the school, the young man looks up and just stares. After so many months at the public _secundaria_ building, this one seems nearly perfect. Wide, stained glass windows and shiny, new doors with students dressed as impeccably as himself filing inside.

But instead of fully enjoying the moment for what it truly is, he finds himself dwelling on those two schools side by side across town- mostly, the _primaria _school, and how Ricardo is faring. Though he likes the boy, he wishes that his information _won't_ need to be used, that the school year will just go smoothly for them both.

Alas, it isn't to be. He arrives home after school one day barely two months into the new school year to find a despondent seven year old sitting on his front stoop, looking pale and fretful. "Ricardo?" Forgoing his original plans to go inside, get a change of clothes, and leave once more to spend the evening with his friends until curfew, he sits down next to him and watches as the little boy rubs at his eyes. "Why are you out here? I told you if you needed me and I wasn't here to talk to the staff," he chides softly.

"I didn't want to disturb anyone inside," he breathes out quietly. "I didn't know where else to go."

"What happened?" Del Rio leans closer, pulling the boy towards him. He sees no visible bruising or cuts, but with the way Ricardo is acting...

He clings to his shirt, shaking his head desperately. When Alberto begins chucking fingers under his jaw gently, trying to get him to look up at him, Ricardo sniffs.

"Talk to me, amigo. What is going on?"

He sounds so kind and caring that finally the young boy looks up, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "Lo siento," he chokes out. "I shouldn't have come but..."

"Don't worry about it," he insists, growing more and more worried the longer Ricardo stalls. "Tell me, please."

"They... they chased me from the school," he finally whimpers. "I... the bully from before, and some of his friends. For blocks, I'm not even sure how long I ran but I happened to see a street sign, and remembered you mentioned it. So I ducked behind some bushes and waited..." He rubs at his cheeks as if embarrassed and rocks forward on the steps, staring desperately up at Alberto. "I... looked for the biggest house around, like you told me to do, and once I was sure they were gone, came here."

Alberto releases a soft breath, running his fingers gently through Ricardo's hair. "Alright, amigo. Follow me." He pulls Ricardo to his feet and barely steps onto the porch when the door is pushed open, a wide eyed maid waiting on the other side. She eyes the young boy next to Alberto with a strange look before ushering them inside. Before she can say a word, Alberto eases Ricardo towards her. "Maria, por favor. Take Ricardo here into the kitchen and get him something to drink, I will be in shortly." The child looks worried when they're separated, the solemn woman nodding as she follows Alberto's commands.

He leans his back against the wall, mumbling to himself as he thinks about how best to handle the situation. _I thought I had it straightened out... but alas, it seems not. So, Alberto, what will you do now?_

A few minutes later, he heads into the kitchen, not wanting to make Ricardo worry, or leave him in a strange, new place for too long. "How are you feeling?" he asks him with a calm smile, sitting down across from where he's nervously standing at the table and taking in how tightly he's gripping the glass of water that's before him.

The child looks sheepish when he realizes where Alberto is looking, gingerly laying the glass down on the large table. "Eh... A-" He looks wide eyed, almost scared, as he glances from Maria to Alberto. "Senor-"

Raising his hands to put the younger boy at ease, Alberto reiterates, "Ricardo, I've told you there is no need for formalities between us. It is not a sin to use my first name. Especially here, in my own home, where you are welcome any time." He glances at the woman, who nods subtly in understanding.

"Senor, I will leave you and your friend to catch up," she says smoothly, quickly disentangling herself from the situation.

Alberto nods his acceptance of this, watching as she leaves. He's relieved, without an unknown presence in the midst of this, perhaps Ricardo will relax. Speaking of, he turns back to the little boy and smiles, "Por favor, Ricardo, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." As he goes to do so, still looking so nervous that each movement he makes is slow and a little clumsy, Alberto waits patiently before settling into a chair across from him. "Before today, have they done anything else?"

He freezes, eyes wide and plaintive in his pale face. "Er, well..." He reaches out for the glass of water, losing his nerve midway through, and turning his gaze back to his lap. "Si, I... They've taken my lunches. Or... ruined my shoes." He stares down at the sneakers on his feet and Alberto follows his gaze, finding them looking worn and covered in what, at first glance, looks like dirt but ends up being the scribbling of markers. Despite his clothes clearly not being the newest, he had always been neat and put together acceptably when Alberto had seen him prior. Now, however, between his shoes and various scuff marks visible on his shirt and pants- probably from the chase he had just evaded earlier- it is obvious that the meanspirited children at the _Primaria _had found other ways of making his life difficult.

"Do your parents know?"

He shakes his head glumly. "No, no. I cannot... I cannot tell." He looks hesitant to say anything else but finally murmurs, "I believe... things are worse now... because..." His words fail him and he looks away, stares out of one of the large panel windows that look out over the spacious backyard that holds his mother's impressive flower garden. It doesn't take long for Alberto to piece things together, however.

"Because you told me and I made a big show of it," he mutters. "As soon as I left the _secundaria _school, they began again, didn't they?" He feels horrible for the nervous creature before him, now even more determined to find a way to put a stop to this. "Ricardo, look at me." When the younger finally looks up at him, miserable and almost trembling, he forces a smile onto his face and leans forward. "I'll fix this, I promise you. It will not continue, si?"

Ricardo's nod is slow and uncertain but Alberto doesn't blame him; his last attempt had failed spectacularly. He will just have to make sure to be more careful this go-around, be sure that whatever he accomplishes will actually stick and not be some temporary resolution. "Si, Al." He stands awkwardly and looks around. "I... should go home now. My parents..."

"Of course," the teenager nods, stepping closer to him. "Where do you live? My driver can surely take you where you need to be." As Ricardo stares up at him, startled, he realizes just how easy _my driver_ slips from his tongue, how it all must seem to the younger boy, who is obviously so used to simpler means. "Or," he rectifies himself smoothly. "We can walk there, if you would prefer."

He still looks uncomfortable, pressing his fingers together in what by now is a very familiar nervous habit of his, and stammers, "Tha- that's alright, Al. I can get back home on my own..." But there's such a nervousness to him that Alberto won't even hear of it, gently resting his arm across Ricardo's shoulders, drawing him closer.

"No, no, I insist. For my own state of mind, this way I will know you are safe and not being chased by those cobarde bullies." Ricardo finally agrees and, after Alberto lets Maria know where he's going, they're off. The walk from Alberto's to Ricardo's isn't too extensive, perhaps ten minutes, and Del Rio is curious as they near the simple house that Ricardo has pointed out to him. It is a bit small but welcoming none-the-less, lush trees swaying nearby and scattering leaves everywhere. It appears well kept and sturdy, keeping in with everything else about the younger man that Alberto had observed, and he wonders just what Ricardo's parents would do if they knew the truth about what was behind his shoes being damaged and everything else.

"Gracias," he finally murmurs when they're at the bottom of his yard, glancing anxiously from Alberto to the house. As if he is arguing with himself over whether or not to invite him in or not.

Alberto chooses not to push it, well aware that, after seeing his house, Ricardo is probably uncomfortable with the thought of sharing his own home with the much richer teenager. Not that it would matter to him, but he's determined to make the young boy comfortable, not even more anxious. "De nada, Ricardo. If you ever need anything, please, you know where I am." He smiles for real this time at the boy, pleased when he relaxes. "I will see you around, si?"

"Si. Buenas noches," he murmurs, turning to walk up to his house. When he turns back around, Alberto is already half down the street, waving as he goes. "Hmm." He smiles slightly before turning to go inside, relieved that fate had intervened and caused him to meet the teenager. A small spark of hope grows within him that, with time, Alberto will help him get away from these bullies.

Ricardo may be reluctant to turn to his parents but Alberto does not hold the same qualms, hoping that his parents will be able to either advise him on what to do or perhaps even be willing to throw their own influence around at the _primaria._ After all the teachers and higher ups there will be more open to listen to fellow adults over a teenager who is only aware of the bullying going on in their school due to his own spotty past.His parents look startled when he begins explaining how he had noticed during his time at the segundaria that bullying at the primaria is very bad. He keeps Ricardo's part of the story out of it, not sure how his parents would feel if they knew he only cared because of one young boy.

Dos Caras, as he goes by in Mexican wrestling, looks somewhere between curious and a little disturbed by the end of the story. "What do you expect us to do, Alberto? Children bullies, they are vicious. There is only so much to be done."

"Father..." He takes a breath, knowing it's something of a long shot. "I have a suggestion." Based on Ricardo's words, it had been the same brat organizing those who were bothering him the previous year, and now this one. Like in dominoes, if you knocked over the lead piece, the rest would fall too... si?

To his credit, Dos Caras hears him out. Exchanges glances with Alberto's mother, murmurs to her for a few minutes while Alberto waits patiently. "I suppose it would do no harm to at least attempt," he mumbles.

His eyes gleam. "Thank you, papa," he says, smiling. He doesn't see Ricardo for quite awhile after this conversation, both boys busy with their own schooling, but he is fairly certain that his idea has worked: his parents had used their influence to their full advantage and, after looking heavily into the bully's parents' backgrounds, found a decent job for the boy's father that even a fool would not pass up in another part of Mexico, that will take him far away from the _primaria_, and Alberto's mother had even gone in person to address the principle of the school, explaining to him that she had heard reports of bullying in his school, and urging him to find a way to correct the issue or at least offer assistance to the children impacted by it, offering a generous donation to help in this matter.

The first day of break, he is sitting outside in the grass, absorbing the sun and enjoying being free from school for this short time, when he hears soft footsteps heading his way. He waits until the person is standing over him, a shadow falling across his face, before he squints his eyes open. Somehow he's not that surprised to find it is Ricardo Rodriguez, looking uncertain and like he's about to bolt, until their eyes lock. "Ho-hola," he greets him quietly, waiting anxiously for Alberto to say something.

"Well, look who it is," he smiles, sitting up with his arms hanging over his knees. "Come, join me." As Ricardo drops down next to him in the grass, still looking a little out of place with the large mansion looming behind them, Alberto takes in how much he's grown over the past few months. "How have things been?"

They sit in quiet for a few minutes, Ricardo's eyes locked on the soft blue sky overhead before he glances back at Alberto, smiling a little. "Much better. I have not been bothered as much lately..." He takes a breath and drops back onto the grass, lips parting into a soft laugh as the blades tickle his bare arms. "That boy you saved me from when we first met- his father apparently received a job elsewhere and they moved away. " He rolls onto his side so he can see Alberto a little easier, his smile growing. "The teachers have also been more observant lately... There have been much fewer issues."

Del Rio's grin is sharp and gleaming in the sun. "I am glad to hear it," he tells him, relieved that his idea had worked so flawlessly. His first true impression of just how far his parents' influence can tread... he likes it, how simple things seem with that at their fingertips. He vows, when he is older, to be just as influential and make them proud. Perhaps help other children similar to Ricardo too... "So," he says, standing up and dusting his clothes off as if to shake off the serious conversation and the sobering state of their friendship's beginning. "There is a pond on the grounds. What do you say, want to swim?" Ricardo looks awkwardly down at his shirt and shorts and Del Rio smiles. "We have swimclothes, you can borrow some. Let's go look, eh?"

"Si," Ricardo agrees after a few moments, following him inside.

The break from school that year passes too quickly for both young men, Alberto fondly thinking back on those days once the time begins slipping through his fingers and he, deciding to follow in his father's footsteps, has to leave home behind, begin his wrestling career in earnest.

He goes by Dos Caras Jr. now. Very few call him Alberto in a professional setting, his father's namesake following him along, the mask that he rarely ever takes off in the locker room hiding his features completely. Time passes as he rises through the ranks and, years later, he sees the masked wrestler known as Chimaera for the first time and, even though there is no recognition in the brown eyes that peer back at him, he would know him even if he'd been covered head to toe. It is, no doubt about it, one in the same, Ricardo Rodriguez, far grown up from the little seven year old he had rescued from bullies years back. He is in his early 20s now, and how they both ended up as competing in Lucha Libre, he is unsure, but he's amused by the twist of fate that keeps bringing them together. He assumes one could almost call it destiny.

Though it wounds his pride a little that Ricardo doesn't seem to recognize him, he figures it is probably just as well. They are rivals here and, as his father had repeatedly reminded him as he grew up, there can be no prior personal entanglements in wrestling. Things like that only make competitors weak, places easy targets on their backs. Best to seem above everyone else, if you wish to be champion. And oh, he is. For nearly a year and a half, he holds the coveted world heavyweight championship of CMLL. Not that Ricardo is slouching either, holding various tag championships and singles titles for other promotions. He keeps an eye on his progress from a distance, pleased with what he's slowly accomplishing, the career he's building up for himself.

It's mid-2009 that he's first approached. Mexico regularly gets scouted by WWE, looking for the next Rey Mysterio- _tsh, anyone with eyes can see that Alberto Del Rio is better than him anyday- _and so it had happened that their eyes had fallen onto him. He weighs the decision heavily for quite awhile, knowing that there is a deadline to this kind of thing. He discusses it with his father, his mother, and finally accepts that it is time to branch out, spread the Dos Caras influence outside of Mexico and Japan. Once again, he will be leaving those he knows behind- including Ricardo. It does not weigh on him as much this time, considering Ricardo doesn't even realize that he is his old childhood friend, but even so... he knows he will miss Mexico.

He plays up how rich he is in his pre-debut vignettes, with fancy clothes and expensive cars, some of which are gifts from his father and some of which he'd bought on his own. He even films it in the entrance to his expensive ranch, smirking from staircases and large, spacious rooms. But something seems to be missing. He wants a little more extravagance, something that proves how above everyone else he truly is. A... A personal ring announcer, yes that's it! But he can only think of one person who he would ever trust with a job of this magnitude. After all, it is not a position he would feel comfortable with leaving an ad in the local newspaper for or some nonsense like that; the person would be required to stay with him at all times and do as he requests. So when WWE corporate follows up with him, confirming that this idea has been approved by the board and they ask if he has any preferences, the answer flows easily from his tongue. "Ricardo Rodriguez. He is currently competing in..."

Almost anyone in the world of professional wrestling will double take upon being contacted by a business such as WWE. Ideas of grandeur and fame follow the number one wrestling company in America, and Alberto can just imagine the look on the young man's face when he receives the call, advising him that he's been requested to come try out for WWE on an as-needed basis. Alberto had insisted that his name not be mentioned, wanting to be face to face with him when he first hears who exactly is hiring him. One thing his father and he had agreed on was that he would drop Dos Caras Jr. and instead go by his real name while competing in WWE, mostly to maintain the illusion if he should ever return to wearing his mask.

The next day, corporate contacts him to confirm that yes, Ricardo has accepted and will be in Florida in a couple of days. WWE wants to examine his capabilities in the ring but mostly, Alberto just wants to make sure that he will be agreeable as a ring announcer. Based on his childhood days, he's certain that things will go smoothly but better safe than sorry.

That Friday, he ventures into Florida Championship Wrestling and looks around, a small smile on his face. _It is almost time._ He heads deeper into the building, almost hoping that he and Ricardo will run into each other in the locker room, but it doesn't happen. The building is all but deserted, only a couple of agents wandering around, talking lowly amongst themselves. When they tell him that it's time, he's amazed: his watch confirms that yes, it is 5 PM and he had spent the last couple of hours wandering aimlessly without sight of Ricardo. _What if he no-showed?_ he frets, worried that perhaps the younger man wasn't as reliable as he'd thought.

But his worries are squashed as he wanders into the arena and catches sight of a very anxious looking Ricardo, a few of the trainers scattered around watching him. Alberto walks up to the ring and, when their eyes lock, nods slightly at him. Ricardo looks even more confused, swallowing, but turns his attention back to the trainers as they approach the ring. "Alright, Ricardo," one of them says, barely blinking as they peer up at him. "We need to run through the basics with you..."

Alberto sneers to himself as he watches, well aware that anything they throw at the younger man, he will knock out of the park every time. And sure enough, he's done all that they suggest within a half an hour, the trainers unable to stump him. Even so, he wants to tease the younger man just a bit, fondly remembering their days in school, when the bullying had stopped and Ricardo could just focus on being a normal child. When they had been friends. There had never been many of those in Alberto's life, most just around for his money or power... "Ahem, excuse me," he says smoothly, attracting everyone's attention after being silent through the whole process.

"Yes, Mr. Del Rio? Is there something we overlooked?" one of the trainers asks, the expression on Ricardo's face when he's addressed not bypassing Alberto's notice: underneath the lingering anxiety as he waits for news on how his tryout is going, he looks impressed, perhaps just now taking in the older man's appearance fully for the first time. His sharp, pressed dark blue suit and fancy dress shoes, complimenting his proud stance as he stares back at him, examines him fully for the first time in years.

Their eyes lock and Alberto waits patiently for some flicker of recognition but it never comes. He frowns slightly, that old slight aggravation returning to him, as he speaks up once more. "Yes," he says roughly. "You," he addresses Ricardo, who hasn't looked away from him as if he senses the importance of this moment: breaking eye contact with the influential man will have told him all he needs to know about what the child he had known had grown into. It amuses and warms him that, despite his visible anxiety, Ricardo doesn't seem to lose his nerve once. "Do you have a tux?" It's a ridiculous question, so pointless. If Ricardo truly needed the clothing, Alberto would have no qualms providing him one, but he honestly just wants to see his response to the impromptu, random query, how quick he is on his feet.

There's a pause as the trainers all exchange confused looks, mumbling to themselves. Ricardo glances from Alberto over to them, looks like he's missing out on the joke, but doesn't lose a step as he turns his attention back to his future employer and clears his throat, answering seriously despite their on-going whispers. "Si, si, I do, Senor Del Rio."

Del Rio glowers over at the still whispering FCW staff before abandoning them, stepping smoothly into the ring, lips twitching as Ricardo immediately moves to hold the ropes for him. He then straightens up to stand before him, his hands pressed tightly together as he waits to hear what Alberto has to say to him. "Well, then." He claps his hands together briskly before dropping them onto the younger man's shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his black shirt down. "That is all I needed to know. Welcome to my employ."

Ricardo's eyes light up, Alberto smiling slightly as he once more is reminded of the little boy who he had rescued from bullies down in Mexico. "Gracias, El Patron," he says clearly, looking all the more sheepish once the words have left his lips.

His smile only grows at what will come to be a sort of nickname for him, Ricardo slowly relaxing when he realizes that Alberto doesn't seem to mind it. "Come," he says, moving to wrap an arm around the younger man's shoulders as he guides him to the ropes, Ricardo slipping aside to part them for Alberto to exit before falling alongside him once more on the outside. "Let's go, we have much to discuss." Why exactly Ricardo doesn't seem to recognize him still, he's unsure, but that's neither here or now at the moment. They are a team once more and that's the important thing.

They click easily early on, exactly to Alberto's expectations. Ricardo is crafty and quick, Alberto is cunning and determined. Whenever he needs assistance in a match, the younger man is there, willing to take a hit or two as long as it helps Alberto further along his career. After their childhood, he second guesses it sometimes, leaving Ricardo to take abuse to ease things along for himself, but Ricardo never complains and he had seen him in Mexico- knows that the young man can take, and dish out, punishment far exceeding what he's currently enduring.

Even so, it doesn't sit well with him sometimes, especially when it goes far beyond bruised egos or perhaps a punch here and there. June of 2011, for instance, Ricardo sacrifices himself to get Big Show off of Alberto, and pays dearly while Alberto slips easily from the ring, watching from the entrance ramp as the much larger man lays into his ring announcer, Ricardo trying and failing to curl in on himself enough to protect his face and neck. Watching this proceed, watching _Kane_ save Ricardo in the end, leaves a bitter taste in Alberto's mouth but what was he to do- Big Show is not some childhood bully _and_ has a good 200 pounds on Alberto... far from easy to do away with.

He paces the hospital corridors, waiting on word as Ricardo is examined, digging his fingers viciously through his hair as he mindlessly counts each tile under his feet. _I will be better,_ he vows repeatedly. _I will not let this happen again... I will..._

When he's finally allowed back into the examination room, Ricardo is still out, the doctor waiting to explain to him his condition. It is not great, multiple contusions and bruises along his face and neck, concussion, the status of his neck also a concern as they wait for him to awaken fully so they can determine more. He nods briskly, waving the man off as he sits down next to Ricardo's bed, staring at him as he sleeps, bruises making it impossible to ignore that things were going very, _very_ wrong all around him.

Not for the first time, he reconsiders his grand idea to drag Ricardo into all of this, wondering if perhaps he was just being too selfish for his own good, forcing the man to be loyal to him, take on men so much bigger than he is... Perhaps should have left him to compete against the Luchadores, where he is settled and comfortable. He blinks and shakes his head, briefly seeing the seven year old he had known a lifetime ago still shaking after being attacked by those bullies and curses vehemently in Spanish. "What have I done?" He buries his face in his hands, breathing heavily, when something brushes against his hair, drawing him out of his own thoughts he's not sure how much later. He looks up and gapes, amazed to find Ricardo staring at him, eyes dark and distant. "Ricardo! You're awake!" He's about to run for the door, get a doctor, when something stops him and he looks back at the younger man, swearing that, underneath the haze of pain, there's a look of familiarity about him, like... _But that is impossible,_ he argues with himself, letting the moment pass. "Ricardo..."

"El Patron," he groans, eyes fluttering shut. "I am... glad you are well..."

He swallows, almost wanting to cry at the very young sounding statement from the injured man before him. "Si, si, thanks to you. Ricardo, please, hang on a moment, the doctor... he wishes to examine you when you're awake." Ricardo blinks a couple times, sighing softly, and Alberto knows it's now or never, patting his shoulder a couple of times before rushing from his side. "Doctor! I need a doctor, he is awake!"

They survive somehow, Ricardo returning to his side in the ring a little over a month later. Alberto keeps quiet about his suspicions, the thought that perhaps he _does_ know fading from the forefront of his mind as more time passes and things remain status quo between them. Ricardo remembers him only as _El Patron_ and that is fine, his employer still too rattled over his injuries and how torturous his recovery period had been for both of them to even feel angry or hurt that a period of time so important to the memories of his teenage years had barely seemed to register as a blip on Ricardo's childhood. Besides he has the Money in the Bank briefcase to focus on now, so close to winning the WWE title that he can almost taste it, Ricardo equally as focused and excited for him.

Unfortunately it does not go as smoothly as he'd hoped, his quest for greatness getting derailed at every turn. He finally wins it just to lose it to Cena, win it back, then lose it to CM Punk in almost as many months. His anger growing once more at this injustice, this failed destiny, he finds his focus back on Ricardo. On _why_ exactly he doesn't recall... _I am, after all, only the man who did all I could to save him from bullying as a child,_ he thinks, the various B.A. Star ads that seem to air every ten minutes during Raw and Smackdown only mocking him further.

By December, things are even more strained between them, Alberto's dissatisfaction with his career only adding to his general displeasure. Ricardo tries to console him, continues being his usual helpful self, but it is not enough. It is never enough. TLC comes around and Alberto finds himself out on the floor, unable to focus on the match warring on around them when Ricardo- _once more putting himself at risk to help, what is he _doing?!- scrambles into the ring and tries to climb the ladder waiting patiently under the swinging title belt, swallowing down his fear as he attempts to grab it for Alberto.

He's a fingertip away when Alberto, peering painfully from the edge of the apron, notices movement out of the corner of his eye. _NO!_ he thinks desperately, reaching out towards the ring but unable to do anything, watching impotently as CM Punk and Miz work together to tip the ladder clean over the side, Ricardo falling at a scary speed into a table on the floor on the other side of the ring, the sound of it shattering around his body echoing horribly in Alberto's ears for long afterwards. He trembles and gapes, swallowing thickly, as the match continues overhead. _Lo siento,_ he thinks desperately, watching for only a moment as referees check on Ricardo, scrambling to his feet and back into the ring. _I must finish this... before something else happens..._ But Punk retains, Punk always retains, and...

For whatever reason, the trainers have left Ricardo there in the wreckage of the table, apparently not wanting to disrupt the match with a stretcher and Alberto is spitting in anger as he rolls back out of the ring, his whole body throbbing from the match he'd just survived by a fingertip. "GET HELP NOW, IDIOTA!" he barks at the nearest referee, dropping down to his knees next to Ricardo. The younger man is conscious, just barely, blinking fearfully up in the shadow of the halved table. "It is going to be ok," he soothes him, hands hovering uncertainly as he ponders touching him, not wanting to make it worse. "Just hang on, help is coming."

"El Patron," he whimpers.

"Yes, I am here," he returns, shaking his head as choice insults for the worthless referees and trainer pours from his twitching lips. Ricardo reaches for him and he immediately quiets, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "You will be fine. You will be fine." He thinks the look of fear on Ricardo's face will never be erased from his memory, and the next night he goes back to Raw, leaving Ricardo in a nearby hospital. He wants revenge, payback, to make Miz and Punk pay for this so badly that it thrums in his veins... but first, he has to survive this ridiculous match he's thrown in... except that he doesn't.

Unbelievable pain shooting up his core as he straddles a turnbuckle for the second time in twenty four hours, he knows that it's bad. He can barely move, his vision spotting with the agony and this time referees circle him, doing for him what they had failed to do for Ricardo for so long the night before. He swats them away angrily but it only adds to his pain, so he concedes, allowing them to help him. He ends up in an ambulance, heading for an ER to be examined to confirm the trainer's diagnosis of a torn groin, and he grabs the nearest EMT, demanding that he be taken to the same hospital that Ricardo currently resides at, spitting out the name of the place over and over again until she agrees, eyes wide. Only then does he fall back, gasping raggedly as he struggles to relax through the unending pain stabbing through him.

His temper, money and influence, once he's finished being examined and having a few tests run, gets the hospital staff to agree to placing him and Ricardo in the same room, the pain medicine they dose him with causing him to doze off before he can even arrive there. He's floating in a numb kind of half-doze, the only sound he's able to focus on being his own breath until he hears shuffling nearby and thinks for a moment that it's a nurse before a hesitant hand rests in his hair, brushing the dark strands back with gentle fingers. No words are spoken, but he remains calm anyway, his rest growing more comfortable as the ministrations along his scalp and forehead continue. _Ricardo,_ he thinks, sighing softly as he sinks further into sleep.

This injury is the worst, keeping him away from competition for four months, even causing him to miss Wrestlemania. Ricardo barely blinks at his worsening temper, taking it all in stride as the weeks pass fruitlessly, the both of them caught in a cycle of rehab and day to day minutae. The only good thing about all of this is that it gives Ricardo time to recover from his various injuries, Alberto relieved to watch it happen even when his recovery stalls out, his hitting a temporary plateau until Ricardo researches and finds a new rehab specialist willing to try new things with him. They finally return the night afterward the biggest show of the year and Alberto's long road back to the WWE or World title begins, disgusting him when that too stalls out, followed by loss after loss to Sheamus.

Each day, he feels his temper getting worse and worse and he's unable to put a stop to it, yelling and pushing Ricardo around until he can barely recognize himself, personally or professionally. His mind is shrouded in rage, he can barely believe his once so promising career had devolved to this, his chain of losses against Sheamus leaving him choking on rage and no other recourse but to take it out on who he knows will never leave his side, bound by money and some sort of unexplainable, steadfast loyalty- Ricardo.

He doesn't even think twice when, one Smackdown, he yells at the younger man until he desperately hands over his shoe, all but begging for Alberto's temper to ease. Not content with just the one, when it fails as a weapon, he turns sharply and pushes Ricardo roughly down to the mat, pulling his other shoe off and spinning around to use it on whoever's nearby as his ring announcer scrambles off to the other side of the ring, hands still held up in a pleading motion. The haze of anger only slightly dissipating, he turns and frowns at Ricardo, barking at him to get up. They leave then, Alberto unaffected by his having no choice but to walk through the hallways in his socks, not giving him time to even recollect his shoes. Ricardo even drives Del Rio's fancy car of the night back to the hotel that way, only speaking when spoken to, his eyes dull and barely blinking the whole way as if afraid that even that would be seen as a sign of weakness by his employer.

It all comes crashing down around Alberto, however, a couple of weeks later when he's out by ringside, watching Sheamus compete against Jack Swagger and, after the Irishman wins, the Mexicans sweep the ring, Ricardo distracting Sheamus so Alberto can get at him but it backfires, Sheamus getting the upperhand and slamming his back along his knee; Ricardo, trying and failing to protect the older man, gets thrown roughly back towards the ringropes and Alberto struggles to his feet, off balanced and woozy. Sheamus, barely bothered by any of this, sets up for a Brogue Kick but Ricardo recovers and, before Alberto can say or do anything, rushes forward and pushes him out of the way, taking the boot straight to the side of his head, spinning and dropping hard onto the mat, face first.

Alberto gapes, only just noticing that Sheamus is still up, about to turn his focus to him. He can't see Ricardo's eyes, the younger man's dark hair shadowing most of his face, but there is no time anyway, scrambling desperately away and out of the ring, anxiously watching on the outside as Sheamus steps ruthlessly over Ricardo's downed body to sneer at Alberto. As soon as the Irish perro is gone, he slaps his fists on the apron, expecting his ring announcer to be alright, bounce back as he had done many a time in the past, but the trainer is in the ring, putting gloves on, and there's a strange look on his face that causes Alberto to roll into the ring, automatically gripping the back of Ricardo's suit and trying to make him stir. When his touch nor his voice brings about any kind of response from the younger man, he realizes. This is not a normal situation.

Falling to his knees before him, he helps as the referees and trainers gingerly roll Ricardo over, Alberto paling as he takes in the glazed, unresponsive look in Ricardo's eye. He had landed roughly on his front, his eyes only open enough for them to see that he is completely out of it, Alberto choking on each breath as he leans forward and rests his hands on Ricardo's face, patting his cheek with one hand and pressing the other along the side of his neck as he watches, calling his name desperately. The trainer is moving here and there, doing this, waving lights in Ricardo's eyes, also trying to get him to stir. Finally he comes to, dark eyes struggling to focus on Alberto instantaneously. Despite his injuries and how out of it he still is, there is a horrible look of fear in his eyes and, through it all, his gaze is unwavering. Alberto only breaks further when Ricardo lifts a hand weakly and uncoordinatedly reaches out, just barely able to grab onto his arm. He doesn't know if the contact helps, if Ricardo is even aware of what he's doing, but he doesn't move, letting his warm hands rest on the other man's neck and throat. "It is ok," he breathes out, soothes him as best as he can with his fingers and words. "You will be fine. I will make sure of it."

Ricardo's breathing is shallow and hitches with painful gasps every few moments, adding to Alberto's distress, the older man relieved when they finally begin transporting him to the trainer's room. He remains there only briefly, the obvious concession being that he needs a true hospital with proper equipment and as much pain killer as can be had.

Alberto unfortunately cannot accompany him immediately, needing to be present for his match against Cena later on, but when he arrives over an hour later, Ricardo is still fading in and out of consciousness, Otunga quickly smooth-talking the nurses in the ER to let Alberto see him. He follows the nurse, lips twitching in disdain as she tries and fails at small talk. He rushes into the room, taking a minute to reorient himself to the dim light so different from the garish florescent gleam in the hallways. Ricardo is laid motionless on a nearby bed, connected to many machines monitoring his vitals and it is painful to see him like this. He scrubs at his face, shakes his head. "Ay. Ricardo." He licks his lips, approaches the bed. "Lo siento, lo siento." No reaction comes and he rests a hand on the younger man's wrist, not wanting to disturb the IVs placed in the back of his hand.

All he can see when he looks at the hospital bed now is the young child he had known long ago, had used every resource available to him at the time to protect him. "I forgot him for awhile, I believe," he mumbles, staring down at Ricardo, acknowledging for the first time in too long that the grown man before him had once been a small, scared, seven year old desperate for help who had trusted in him enough to turn to him whenever he needed it. How those memories had been tarnished with what he had reduced the younger man to, a mere target for his rage and anger... "What... what have I been doing? Por que... por que... why did you save me, when I am so awful to you?" He pillows his face in his arms on the side of the bed, staring up at Ricardo through blurry, tired eyes, and shakes his head. "I deserved that brogue kick. Not you. I have become what I once loathed... I am no better than those bullies I tried to protect you from as a child. All along, what you needed was someone to protect you from _me..._" He idly reaches forward and rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder, self-loathing and pain in his dark eyes. "Why was I so much wiser as a boy? Hmm?"

His mouth snaps shut as the ring announcer shifts, murmurs under his breath while his fingers flex against the stiff hospital bedding. Eyes fluttering, he just catches a glimpse of Alberto, who sits up so he doesn't have to move his neck too much to look at him. "Al," he breathes, lips twitching slightly. "Al..."

Time stops. "Que?" he demands once he finds his voice, but it is too late. Ricardo is unconscious once more. Alberto leans back against the chair, staring down at him. _He knows. He knows who I am..._

He stews. He dwells. He second guesses his deduction, unable to know for sure if the half-conscious man _had_ really known, or if he had just been too weak, his throat too dry, to spit out his full name. His hands flex against the armrest of his chair, frowning down at the younger man. _Wake up, wake up,_ he chants steadily. _Wake up._

As always obedient, only perhaps half an hour or so has passed when Ricardo's eyes flutter again and he shifts, groaning as deep agony stabs through his neck, down his spine and into his extremities. "Ay," he whimpers, tears filling his eyes. Alberto is on his feet immediately, resting a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes lock, Ricardo immediately trying to compose himself. "El- El Patron," he whispers, releasing a shaky breath.

Alberto's eyes narrow suspiciously as he takes in how steady his voice sounds now, if a little weak, tired. Shaking it off, he leans closer and releases a breath of his own. "Si, I'm here, Ricardo. You're in the hospital," he tells him, taking in his confused expression. "Do you remember?"

Fear passes across his eyes and he struggles, licks his lips. "Si, I- I do." He blinks when Alberto reaches over to a pitcher of water, pouring him a small amount before holding the glass carefully to his lips, shifting it until a straw rests against his lips, allowing him to sip slowly without moving. "Gracias." His energy is already waning, Alberto's face softening as he sits back on the edge of the bed. "El Patron..." His eyes slip closed before he can say or do anything else.

Del Rio nods somberly. "Rest, Ricardo. We have plenty of time to discuss things later."

Hours pass and he dozes off at some point, his eyes feeling impossibly gritty and painful until he cannot resist any longer, the soft sounds of Ricardo's breaths easing him the rest of the way into comfortable sleep. This is disrupted, however, when he senses a strange presence standing near the bed and his hand shoots out, seizing something, sense of touch awakening as he grips it... just to realize it is much too soft or thin to be Sheamus' or any other wrestlers' arms. A female gasp sends him the rest of the way to wakefulness and his eyes shoot open to find a nurse standing next to his chair, the woman standing rigidly still like one wrong movement would make him attack. He almost thinks she's right, releasing her thin wrist with a gasp of his own. "Lo Siento, I'm sorry," he mumbles, realizing that she might not know Spanish before the words fully leave his mouth.

She shakes her head, concludes checking Ricardo's vitals before turning to face Alberto. "It is fine, Mr. Del Rio," she tells him. "My son watches WWE. I saw what happened to Mr. Rodriguez, so I understand your reaction."

He nods blearily, running his hands through his hair and down his face before turning to look at the still sleeping ring announcer. "How is he?"

She hesitates, scribbling her name and other basic information on a white board used for patients and family to keep track of who will be in charge of their care that day. When she turns back to Alberto, she has a slight smile on her face. "He is stable. We have more tests we would like to run on his neck, after breakfast, but we will probably just monitor him for the majority of the day, do what we can to manage his pain."

He nods faintly. "Will he awaken soon?"

She takes her time on this answer too, worrying her lip. "I imagine he'll be in and out for most of the day, and please don't worry if he's asleep more than he's awake. The pain medicine will make him tired, and rest is good for him to recover."

Alberto hates this answer, needing to know what last night was about, but he accepts it with a curt nod, brushing a hand loosely over Ricardo's wrist. "Very well." He barely notices when she leaves or returns awhile later with a food tray for 'Ricardo' that she leaves by his side with a small smile, quickly heading off to do the rest of her rounds. The food is horrible, he realizes when he begins picking at it, but it will hold him over for awhile so he doesn't leave Ricardo here alone before he awakens again. If he's lucky enough, Otunga or someone will come along and he can demand they get him some real sustenance.

A few hours pass and Del Rio's about to drift back into sleep himself, the sun gleaming warm across his face, when Ricardo releases a soft sigh. Immediately alert, the Mexican aristocrat sits forward and watches as the younger man's eyes flutter, finally open for the first time since last night. "It is about time, Ricardo," he tells him softly, standing over him with a soft smile.

Ricardo's dark eyes focus on him and he grimaces, reaching up wearily to touch his neck. "I... I. Nnnn." He swallows heavily, eyes squinting shut. "Sheamus," he groans out, a horrible look of pain passing across his face as he remembers.

"It's alright," he whispers, resting a hand on his upper arm in an attempt to sooth him. "I will make him pay for this, I swear." Ricardo winces and takes another deep breath, his eyes slipping open once more as he stares at Alberto, the two freezing like that for a moment. Despite the expression of utter faith and loyalty in Alberto lingering in Ricardo's gaze, Del Rio can't help but feel like there's something else there. Something that proves what he had heard last night and consequently shatters his own viewpoint of everything from the last two years. Finally he can't hold it in any longer, his fingers tightening against Ricardo's arm. "You knew," he breathes. "This whole time you knew. Why not tell me?"

Ricardo looks like he's been kicked in the teeth, floundering and worrying his lip. "Know, know what, El Patron?" he finally asks, wincing as Alberto releases his arm and steps away, needing to put some distance between the two before he does something he'll regret.

"You knew I was Al. You knew that I was the one who protected you from schoolyard bullies. You knew this whole time and you said nothing. Isn't that right?" Ricardo's silence is telling and he sits back down heavily, unable to wrap his head around any of this. "Why? Ricardo, why?"

_"You_ never said anything," he says faintly and Alberto hesitates, wondering if perhaps this was the worst possible time to get into this, if perhaps he should've waited until Ricardo was stronger. But before he can try to stop this, maybe urge him to wait until later to explain, Ricardo continues to speak through gritted teeth. "Yes, I knew it was you. I knew way back in Mexico. Dos Caras Jr." He sighs. "I suppose I should've said something but the longer you kept quiet, the more I was sure you had no idea I was that same little boy from _primaria_. To be honest, I hoped you didn't." He catches a glimpse of Alberto's uncertain, almost angry face, and hastens to explain. "It wasn't exactly a good period of time in my life. I was pretty much at my lowest. I'd rather not be remembered by you that way. When you hired me in WWE and made no mention of that time, I thought I was in the clear. If I had known you _did_ realize it was me... maybe I would've handled it differently." His voice growing thinner and weaker word by word, his eyes flutter closed. "I just wanted to repay you for your friendship and kindness, I never considered what would happen if I'd failed... Lo siento."

He's fast asleep before Alberto can even decide how to respond.

The next time he awakens, his room is dark; Alberto is gone. His eyes close but he cannot sleep, the pain now much deeper than the physical- he is alone, he has destroyed his professional life _and_ whatever bond he may have had with the man who had once saved him as a child. Despite the absent of his El Patron he fights the tears he feels forming anyway, wishing not for the first time since awakening in this hospital that he could shake his head, move, do _something._

He's still laying there he's not even sure how much later when the door opens and familiar footsteps head for the bed, his breath hitching as a warm hand rests on his shoulder. "Has he awakened?" His heart skips a beat and he wonders if the nurse has noticed it on the monitor overhead, but she says nothing. The touch shifting, he shudders as it rests against his face, tapping his chin slightly. "Open your eyes, Ricardo." Alberto doesn't sound angry, only grim and maybe a little... sad? "I know you're awake." He obliges reluctantly, their eyes meeting once more and the older man smiles slightly.

"El Patron-"

Alberto shakes his head (_Lucky man_, Ricardo thinks almost enviously) and sits on the edge of the bed, his warmth suffusing through the thin hospital sheets. "Let me speak. While I was out speaking with Otunga about your case, I also had some time to think and I understand why you kept silent about our past. You do not need to apologize to me, if anything I need to apologize to you." He stares at his hands, ignoring Ricardo's confused sputtering. "I have become no better than those bullies constantly after you when we were younger, and it took me much too long to realize." He looks up, an almost shameful gaze in his eyes. "I suppose part of it was bitterness because I thought you_ had_ forgotten those times, that you didn't consider it important enough to bother recollecting fondly... or recognizing me as I had recognized you from the start."

Ricardo looks startled, his eyes wide as he takes this all in. "El Patron..."

"I never had many _honest_ friends as a child, you see," he says. "They cared about my money. My influence. What I or my family could do for them. You were different, however. You barely blinked an eye at my home, or my money, or anything else you witnessed during that time." He sighs, leaning back as he takes in Ricardo's expression, _almost_ smiling at the dumbstruck look on his face. "This still holds to this day, I have just been too blind to see it."

Ricardo coughs and grimaces, the pain slowly growing almost unbearable, and he notes as the nurse quietly goes about her business, injecting his IV with what must be the powerful painkillers that'd left him deeply asleep for the last few hours. He knows he has to hurry, before it takes affect and he makes no sense. "I should have acknowledged our past. I didn't mean to make you feel slighted. I never forgot those days, it is why I've always been so determined to help you." His eyes starting to grow heavy and blurry, he clings to consciousness with every bit of strength he has left. "I owe you, I still owe you. I just wanted to help you, to make up for how you'd helped me. I was miserable in _Primaria_, then I met you and things began to change. All I've ever wanted was to make things easier for you, similiarly to how you did for me. Lo siento, I don't think I've done this very well."

He's almost out, his lips parting as he struggles to say more, keep his eyes open a little longer. Alberto sighs and leans over him, resting a hand on his arm. "You succeeded in spades, mi amigo. Gracias... I cannot believe how far you went to repay me, when I never required it from you. All I really wanted was... your friendship."

Ricardo's voice is weak and slurred as he slips closer to sleep, the drugs taking hold fully now. "You always have it, El Patron."

As he fully loses hold of reality, sinking down into the sheets with a small, relieved smile on his pale face, Alberto sits back in his chair and just watches, a similar expression on his. "Gracias, gracias..."


End file.
